Daniel walked with me around his new infirmary, softly rubbing my back to ease my tension. Honestly, had this been with just about anyone else I'd have likely done anything I could to get out of this, obligation or not. I didn't dislike or distrust medical staff, but I really...really did not like being confined or remembering the problems I carried around with me.

"Can I get your name and age?" he asked, clipboard in hand.

"...Thirty-two years."

He wrote down my age.

"And your name?" he asked again.

I didn't have an answer.

"Y'alright?"

I just looked down to the floor, trying to hold still. I didn't mean to be difficult, but...

He sighed, putting his arm behind me and walking me to a scale.

"I'm gonna take your weight here, if you'd kindly step onto the scale," he said, waving his hand to the instrument.

With a deep breath I took my place on the scale. He slid around the counterweights accordingly until the beam was level with the balance mark, writing the indicated value on a sheet.

"Ninety-five pounds," he said. "Let's get your height over here."

He led me to a wall-mounted stadiometer, my standing under the head plate. He nudged me gently in a few places to straighten my posture, putting my heels, rear, shoulders, and head carefully against the wall. To my chagrin he leveled my jaw so I hadn't a choice but to look straight out, my eyes scanning the room timidly. Moving the head plate down until my messy hair was pressed flat, he took a moment to record my height.

"...And five-foot-one," he said, lifting the plate off my head. "See? This ain't so bad."

I reached up with one hand to grab my opposite arm and nervously dig my nails into the sleeve of my shirt. Daniel put his arm around my back to lead me slowly to a cot and sit me down, rubbing my tense shoulders before grabbing his chair.

"I'd like you to put your arm up here on the desk for a moment, with your wrist up," he requested.

With some hesitation I did as requested. He pulled out a watch from his pocket and placed two fingers just below the base of my thumb, searching for my pulse. He found it without too much trouble, holding his fingers in place for ten seconds. He broke to record the value on his sheet.

"About ninety," he said. "A bit high. Keep your arm on the desk for just a little longer, please."

From a drawer he retrieved a blood pressure meter. With my arm still on the desk Daniel ran his fingers from mine up my arm, feeling for my arteries. Once found he carefully pulled up my sleeve and wrapped the cuff around my upper arm, lining up an indicator with the artery.

"Have you done this before?" he asked, cleaning the bell of a stethoscope.

I just shook my head.

"Alright, so this thing on your arm is called a sphygmomanometer and it's used to check a person's blood pressure," he said. "I'm going to inflate this cuff with air via this pump and it's gonna squeeze your arm while I have the bell here on your artery. As I inflate the cuff you'll see this pressure gauge here increase. Once I get it to a hundred and eighty millimeters of mercury I'll slowly begin to release it. It'll be a bit uncomfortable, but it won't hurt and it'll be over in a few seconds. Are you ready?"

With my ears back I cautiously nodded my head. I didn't like being squeezed around my extremities but I felt I could trust him with this procedure.

He placed the bell on my arm and inflated the cuff with the pump in his other hand. The pressure felt bad, but not as bad as I thought it would...mostly just made my arm a bit numb. Slowly he released the pressure, listening intently with a firm expression. Finally the rest of the air was released and he removed his scope to record values on his sheet.

"...And one-twenty-five over eighty-three," he said. "Also a bit high. Both your heart rate and your blood pressure can and will increase when you're anxious or stressed like you are. Please try to relax a little, Reverend. I'm not gonna hurt ya."

"...S-Sorry."

"Nah, none of that," he softly said, taking out a small flashlight. "Gonna shine a bright light in each eye real quick. You can hate me later."

With one hand on my face he carefully held open my eyelid, shining the small flashlight in my eye. Once satisfied he moved on to the other, repeating the process. I firmly closed my eyes and quickly shook my head.

"Just making sure your pupils are working like they should be," he laughed, writing something down. "As I'm sure you're concerned about it: No, I saw no red ring. Your sclerae are a bit red but you're likely just tired, so I wouldn't worry."

He grabbed an otoscope from the wall.

"Let's check your ears quick, make sure there's no fluid or blockages anywhere," he said, carefully sticking the scope into my ear canal and flicking on a light, then moving to the other ear.

"Nothing unusual here."

He cleaned off the otoscope and placed it back on the wall, grabbing a flat wooden stick from a jar.

"Won't lie-- this part sucks," he said, readying the stick. "Most people gag a little from this, so please try not to throw up on me."

He opened my mouth and placed the stick against the back of my tongue, pressing down lightly as he looked around with the flashlight. I gagged a bit, but managed to keep everything down. Peeling my lips back in a few places to examine my teeth he seemed to find nothing noteworthy. Disposing of the flat stick he carefully felt around my neck, the slight pressure making my fur stand on end and my feet fidget. Given he looked down to my feet I know he took notice.

"I'm not gonna choke ya," he said quietly. "Can't really help that some things I need to investigate are in your neck. I'm not really finding anything to write home about, here, though your thyroid feels a little big. Might help explain your size."

I looked down and away with a nervous chuckle.

"Have you been experiencing any abdominal pain?" he asked.

"...No, I haven't," I said.

"Alright, I'll skip those parts," he crossed off something on his sheet. "I would like to get a lung check done, though just a simple one to test your breathing. Not gonna tap your back a bunch of times unless you start complaining about back or chest pain. I'll need you to pull up the back of your shirt."

I gasped and tugged at my hair, anxiously looking away to hide my face.

"Something wrong?"

"...I-I can't do that," I said. "I'm s-sorry."

"...Reverend, I'm doing this for your health," he sighed and assured me. "All I will be doing is checking your breathing using my stethoscope in a few places behind your lungs. If there's something you don't want me to see, you can unbutton your shirt when I'm behind you to be just loose enough for me to put my hand underneath. I'm not gonna hurt or do weird things to ya, I promise."

"I-I'm...not sure..."

"I can't force you to let me do this, but for your sake I would really like if you'd let me," he said, moving behind me. "I will stand right here behind you. I can't see anything and I only need everything loose enough to fit my arm under to hold my scope. Please give me a chance here."

I sighed, grudgingly unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom. He gently tugged to check the looseness until it was sufficient.

"Thank you, Reverend. That will be plenty. Now, this might be a little cold on your back but it'll warm up quickly."

I felt the chilly metal against my back, arching slightly. He placed his hand on my shoulder and gently squeezed to reassure me, helping me relax.

"Take deep breaths."

I did so as he moved around the bell to four different places per side. Thankfully this part of the examination didn't take long and he released his arm from my shirt, removing his scope.

"Thank you," he said, tugging my shirt back down. "Your breathing is fine and I found nothing interesting, so you can rebutton your shirt. I will wait right here until you say you're finished."

My ears perked. I really didn't want anyone seeing my scarred, damaged back and his respect for my privacy really meant a lot. Quickly I refastened my shirt buttons, saying when he could step back out front. He rubbed my arm as he returned to his chair.

"Slide your rear up to the higher edge," he said, pointing to the elevated side of the cot as he wrote down a couple more things. "All that's left of the physical work is a simple reflex test and I don't need to do anything weird like that for it."

Standing up I moved to the high point of the cot, my legs dangling off the side. With a reflex hammer he gave a light tap to each knee, just under the kneecap, and received a satisfactory result.

"Okay, that's all the physical work unless you got some special gripe I should know about," he announced as he returned the hammer to his desk. "You haven't complained about anything recently but do let me know these things when they happen."

"N-No, I have no complaints," I stuttered, returning to the other end and looking around. "...I'm sorry I'm d...difficult."

"Hey now, none of that," he softly squeezed my knee. "I just want you to understand that everything I've done today has been for your care. I know I'm pretty touchy-feely but I don't do those things to make you feel uncomfortable. If you'd prefer, I can stop, but you seemed like the type to benefit from some physical reassurance."

"...No, it's fine."

"Are you sure? You won't hurt my feelings and you can tell me so at any time."

"I'm sure...thank you."

"Alright then. Don't be afraid to speak up in the future if it gets to be too much."

He adjusted his seating, folding one leg over the other and laying his clipboard across his lap.

"Just a few questions here I'd like you to answer," he said, placing the tip of his pen against the first in a list. "You can decline to answer any of them, but they can help me get a better feel for your personal risks, should there be any. Ready?"

I hesitantly nodded.

"Do you consume alcohol?" he asked. "If so, how often and how much?"

"I do not."

"Alright. How about smoking? If you don't smoke, were you brought up in a high smoking environment for long periods of time?"

"I don't smoke. My parents did, but did so outdoors."

"How would you rate your stress level?"

"...I'm okay, I think."

Daniel looked at me, eyelids heavy with doubt.

"Are you active in the, uh, extracurriculars?" he went on.

"...What?"

"...I'll take that as a 'no,'" he continued. "Do you have any allergies that you know of?"

"No."

"And are you on any medications? This includes supplements."

"Also no."

"Have you experienced any issues with fatigue, appetite, or sleep?"

"Only with the increase in outdoor activity, but I expected that much."

"Good," he said as he finished writing his notes and set the clipboard aside. "With all of that done I would like to again extend my offer for therapy."

I recoiled back a bit, my back and shoulders stiff as I looked away.

"Reverend, given your history as a corrupted you're unfortunately predisposed to relapsing in the future should you continue to lock away whatever's hurting you so badly," Daniel said firmly. "I'm not saying these things to upset or scare you, I'm telling you this because past those timid, defensive walls and nervous habits is someone lugging around a lot of hurt and baggage."

I cringed and grit my teeth, but a hand reached out to grab me by the shoulder.

"That someone is worth helping," he said solemnly. "I can't and won't force you to tell me anything, but if you ever allow me the opportunity I would be more than happy to help you. I've...seen these things before-- it's not a fate anyone deserves. You've come a long way on your own, but there's still clearly more to be done."

"...I...I don't--"

"We'd also talk out here, where those staff can't interfere," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his snout. "...I really don't like them, Reverend. I had this building soundproofed and given opaque internal shutters just to ensure I can carry out my practice without their spying."

"...Spying?"

"The interest they have in you and your child isn't necessary, nor should it be welcome. I've heard some things they've said in passing, both about the two of ya and recently about myself, too. Just...please keep an eye on them."

"What's been said?" I asked, piqued.

"Various degrees of doubts and unkindness," he replied. "Nothing in particular stood out; it was all pretty...questionable. Seems the only one I haven't heard such things from is a single daytime worker, but the rest are skeptical and disturbed at best."

I sighed. I figured this was the case but I was just not in a position to contest it. Though this was my home, much of the financing keeping things running was coming out of Morissey's pocket, myself only covering for Riv and my own keep. I didn't care so much what was said about me, but knowing they had been saying distasteful things about our nurse and my child put me on edge. Riv and Daniel were here to stay. That was final.

"I will keep this in mind," I exhaled. "I had a feeling about all of this, but it's nice that those feelings could be validated by another. Could you please continue to watch over Riv during the day when you're not busy? He deserves this the least out of all of us."

"Y'ain't even gotta ask," he shook his head. "You work hard and I like you both, so as long as you're fine with my being here a lot, then so am I."

"...Thank you."

"Again, though...please talk to me about what all ails you sometime. Don't have to be today, or even tomorrow. Just...sometime down the line. You really need it."

"I will...consider it," I rubbed my arm. "I-I'm sorry...for being a dis--"

He stood up and hugged me tight before I could finish.

"There'll be none of that in my infirmary," he whispered. "You're not a disappointment and I'm sorry anyone's ever told you otherwise. You're one man doing something noble that few would ever consider, and that speaks volumes. You might be small, Reverend, but deep down you got a big heart. It's damaged and hurting, and likely has been for a very long time-- but against those odds it's managed to push you to where y'are now."

I stood still, trying to hold back my tears lest I embarrass myself further.

"You're a good man," Daniel said. "Please let me take care of ya, both your body and your heart."

I felt my arms reach up against my will to return the gesture, however my small body could.

"...And I'm sorry I'm a guy and this is probably weird and whatever for ya," he continued. "Can't really help that much. I grew up with a lotta hugs and affection, so...apologies if it comes across against my intentions. I just care is all."

From behind his big arms I chuckled. I hadn't really thought of it that way, honestly. To me these interactions had just been kind gestures; positive reinforcement, perhaps. I don't think I could see these things as anything else, my...modifications likely not helping.

I don't think I could...imagine anyone in your place-- not even the kindest or prettiest woman. Despite your passing, I admit my feelings stayed with you...and they always would.

"If you don't want to say your name, could you at least sign it on this record here?" he asked, offering me his clipboard. "I need everyone to sign their records for the sake of consent and confidentiality."

I carefully looked around the room. It was just us, and all was quiet. Hesitantly I took his pen and signed my name on the bottom of the form. Daniel took back his clipboard and pen, looking at my sheet.

"And this is your real name?" he asked. "Not a title or anything?"

"...Yes, that...that is my name."

"Understood," he affirmed, taking the sheet from the clipboard.

He unlocked a filing cabinet and opened a hanging folder simply labeled 'Reverend', carefully adding my information to his records. With it in place he closed the drawer and locked the cabinet, returning his keys to a chain on his belt loop. After everything was done he turned back toward me, placing his hand on my shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

"Everything's safe with me."

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